I went out shopping in the crowds yesterday. I had to get my brother-in-law another pound of assorted chocolates as I ate his first one (it was even gift-wrapped!) I am doing waaaay too much emotional overeating lately that my scrotums are rubbing together when I walk. Oh, wait. I am a girl. It must be my inner thighs. Never mind. I blew up in the Burlington coat factory store which is something I just don't do in public as I figure the employees are just doing their jobs. I found a Leap Frog toy for my nephew. It was the barn one that magnetizes to the refrigerator, and it has the front ends and the back ends of various farm animals. If you put the correct two pieces in the barn, you get a cute little song on how well you did it. However, if you put the front end of a sheep and the back end of a cow, it will say, "A sheep-cow! How silly!" and then it sings a little song about how stupid you are. Burlington is an overstock store, and everything is marked down. The package didn't have a mark-down price on it, nor any price. The cashier called for a manager who took five minutes to arrive. Then she disappeared for 15 minutes and came back and said she couldn't find another one. She took the toy with her this time and disappeared for another 15 minutes. I asked if there was another manager around. He checked, and the price checker was calling other Burlington stores to see if they had a price on it. This was a toy for god's sake, not a $200 coat. I said, "Can't you just scan the thing and give me your usual mark-down percentage?" Oh, no. "It has to have a yellow Burlington sticker on it." "How about if you make an executive decision here and bypass the rules? "I can't do that." "All right. I'll pay the full scanned price." "Oh, no. I can't do that." "Forget it. I'm leaving." There were streams of customers, cashiers, tag removers, baggers, and they were tying up one clerk on the Friday before Chistmas for over half an hour doing a price check on a toy! I behaved badly, I know. I've heard of road rage, but I guess there is toy rage as well. I stopped at my sister's house, and among other things, I told her of my toy frustration. She has bone, lung, and brain cancer and looked at me blankly as if to say, "Oh, I wish I only had your problems." Puts things in perspective, doesn't it?